Fields to Plow: The NukaCola Challenge
by Travi
Summary: Ronald Laren has always coveted Sierra. But when a well-dressed stranger appears in Girdershade and plans to win her over with Nuka-Cola quantum, Ronald takes it upon himself to collect the quantum first and finally win over the woman of his dreams.
1. Chapter 1

Author: Welcome one and all to my little Fallout story. This idea popped into my head at random while I was doign the in-game Nuka-Cola Challenge quest, so I thought i'd make a little story out of it. I don't expect it to be too long - a few chapters maybe, each about the same length that this one is. I hope for this to be a fun read. Of Course, I do not own or claim to own Fallout 3. The rights to the series belong to Bethesda Softworks. Enjoy.

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Ronald Laren spoke with a sharp and hurried tone, using emphasis in his voice to compensate for the intimidation he felt upon seeing a stranger, well dressed in a dark suit, red tie and polished shoes, leave Sierra Petrovita's home. Yet it was apparent from the first glance the stranger gave him from under his tilted hat that he saw immediately through the ruse.

"Hey pal, what were you doing in Sierra's place?"

The stranger's eyes flashed briefly with amusement.

"Sierra and I were just, you know, getting cozy."

"Bullshit. I know she asked you to get that nasty nuka-cola quantum shit for her."

"She did, and she has offered to pay me very well for it. Although i'm sure if I use all the right lines, i'll be getting a little extra compensation, if you know what I mean."

"Listen, asshole. Girdershade is MY town. Sierra is MY woman. And i'm not about to let some rich prick show up and take her from me. I have a proposition for you."

"I'm listening."

"Good. Go ahead and find some of that quantum, but instead of bringing it to Sierra, bring that shit to me. That way, I can give it to her so she'll let me...how can I put this...plow her bean field."

"What?"

"You know exactly what i'm talking about."

"Hmm. I'm not sure I do."

"God dammit. I want to do the Charleston with her. Put my flux capacitor in her photonic resonation chamber. Give her some old hickory. Shock her with my tesla coil."

"The fuck...?"

"Are you fucking stupid? I want to bone her."

"I can't say I blame you. I'm afraid i'm going to beat you to it, though. She'll be used goods long before you tap into that reserve, partner."

"No..." Ronald was fuming. "You're going to give me the quantum, i'm going to use it to impress Sierra, and you're going to take your caps and leave forever."

"Actually, I'm going to get that quantum, bring it to her, and then i'm going to slam her like the fist of an angry God. You won't be able to sleep through all of the noise. She'll be screaming my name."

The stranger's smile widened into a handsome grin. Ronald cringed as he noted the dimples the smile created on his cheeks.

Sierra loved dimples.

"Listen buddy, you better turn around and head out of Girdershade, or all you'll be getting a taste of is the Kneecapper." Ronald said, patting the sawed-off shotgun at his waist, while he sized up the man standing before him.

The stranger was about six feet tall, with well-trimmed graying facial hair and cherubic blue eyes. His smile was angelic and inviting, but his countenance suggested something similar to a child pondering an act of mischeif.

Ronald's eyes found the holstered laser pistol at the stranger's waist. It looked somewhat different from other laser weapons he had seen, as though it had been modified somehow.

"I hope you're smarter than to try what's going through you mind, Mr. Laren." The stranger way saying. "I can guarantee you i'm quicker to a draw."

"Oh, don't you worry about that stranger." Ronald started, continuing the tough guy routine. "Why would I bother killing you when I can just beat you to getting that quantum and claim my woman once and for all?"

The smile never left the stranger's face.

"You're going to try to get the quantum bottles before I do? Oh, this is rich."

"You bet your fucking ass I am." Ronald seethed. "We'll see who the bigger man is."

"I suppose this means you and I have a little race going on then, doesn't it? That's fine with me. Letting the wasteland take care of you would save me some ammunition, after all."

"You talk a man's talk." Said Ronald. "But talk and action are two very different things."

"It seems we have nothing more to talk about, Ronald. Sierra needs a real man to keep her satisfied, and I intend to fill that role when I have those 30 Quantum bottles and your corpse is Yao Guai food."

Ronald grunted, then turned around and started briskly toward his house.

"Well, i'm not going to waste any time! I have a fucking trip to pack for! There's 30 bottles of shitty soft-drink out there waiting for me!"

The stranger watched Ronald Laren stomp back into his house and slam the door behind him. He gave a brief, amused chuckle.

"I'm not going to be so hasty. I'll be better off having a fresh start tomorrow morning."

And with that, he removed his hat, turned around and headed back into Sierra's house.

"Oh!" Sierra gasped when the stranger came inside again after only having left a few minutes earlier.

"Did you forget something? Did you want me to give you the tour again? Do you want another Ice-cold nuka-cola?!"

"No! I mean, no, my dear. I've simply decided to wait until tomorrow morning before I head out for that nuka-cola quantum you wanted. I hate to be so intrusive, but would you mind if I slept on your floor tonight? Its awfully windy and dusty outside. I wouldn't want to spend the night out there."

"Of course! It would be nice to have some company! Help yourself to another nuka-cola if you want one!"

Sierra sat on a bar stool and studied some of her nuka-cola memorabilia. The stranger retrieved a nuka-cola from the refrigerator and promptly took a seat next to her.

"So, Sierra. Tell me again where you got that wonderful vintage nuka-cola machine."

Sierra was only too happy to divulge the entire history of the machine in the corner. She chattered away amiably, and took no notice as the stranger nodded as she spoke, and let his hand come to rest on her shoulder. 


	2. Chapter 2

Author: I apologize about this, but breaks in the text haven't been showing up on the site, so in order to indicate a break in the text, I will be using "BREAK" instead of a solid line.

Break break break

The weight of the supply pack made Ronald's shoulders sore, but he was determined to make headway, trudging on under the night sky.

The wasteland looked as barren as he'd always remembered it. A vast expanse of dry brown earth, punctuated by rocky outcroppings and the withered wooden poles that used to be trees.

He was clad in his old leather armor; a pad covering his left shoulder but his right shoulder exposed for the purpose of better aim and flexibility. The Kneecapper was still at his side, and in a small pouch in his pack he kept an ample store of ammunition.

He was heading east. He had learned from Sierra that there was an old Nuka-Cola plant just outside of inner-city D.C. He figured that would be his best chance to either find bottles of quantum, or clues that would point him in the right direction.

His mind was racing and his heart fluttering; He was thrilled at the prospect of getting out into the wastes and proving himself to Sierra, even if she was a crazy, over-caffienated sugar addict. She was an eccentric, but there was something in her constant energetic bumbling that he found irresistable. And at the same time, he was afraid - both of the harshness of the wastes he had not explored for years, and of the stranger who had appeared in Girdershade out of nowhere and threatened to snatch what he had coveted for years from under his nose. And on top of all of this, he also felt a dull pain of regret, that it had taken the threat that the stranger posed to him to motivate him to embark on this journey to win over the object of his desire - once and for all.

"He thinks i'm some kind of pushover. I'm going to show that asshole - and Sierra - what i'm made of."

He was beginning to get chills. In the wasteland, as in all natural barren deserts, when the night came the cold descended quickly and oppressively. He had not gone as far as he had hoped to on this first night, but he decided that the distance he had already travelled gave him a good enough head start over the stranger. He scanned the expanse in front of him to find a suitable location where he could camp for the night.

He settled on a small enclosing surrounded by modest rock formations that blocked out the wind and the weather. He unrolled the mat he used for a bed on the ground, and began gethering small stones and the modest wood from the tree corpses in the area to make a campfire. He bundled the sticks together, surrounded them in a circle of small rocks, and produced a small box of matches from his pack. He struck a match and dropped it into the pile of sticks. He waved his hands over the tiny dot of flame until it began to reach out and consume the surrounding firewood.

He reached again into his pack and removed one of his favorite posessions: a tiny portable radio. He tuned the frequency to Galaxy News Radio, and listened as a woman's voice whom he didn't recognize discussed the news story that had had all of the merchants and wastelanders visiting Girdershade talking; the station's long-time commentator, Three Dog, had been murdered. Soldiers from the Brotherhood of Steel, who were tasked with defending the station headquarters from Super Mutants, had seen Three Dog go into his studio for a day of broadcasting, and when they had heard nothing from him for some time, they had gone into the studio to investigate. They found his bloodied, limbless torso in the middle of his bedroom, his head resting in the recording booth next to the microphone, and his arms and legs scattered throughout the building. The Capital Wasteland was apparently abuzz with questions of who would have committed such a brutal crime, and how it could have happened in the middle of the day while the Brotherhood stood guard outside.

The news made Ronald morose. He had always liked listening to Three Dog.

The discussion on Three Dog's death soon ended, and was replaced by cheerful, nostalgic music, allowing him to shift his focus to other matters. He sat cross-legged on his mat, and rubbed his hands together before the fire.

Break break break

"Hey!"

The raider turned around - only to be promptly drilled through the head by a laser beam.

The Stranger holstered his laser pistol and stood over the body. The raider's legs were twitching anxiously, as a measure of futility, the brain having been silenced before the legs got the message to run.

He was pleased with his luck. The raider had set up an admirable camp. A tent with a well-crafted frame, an already burning campfire - it would be the perfect place to spend the night.

He took his time investigating the camp. He pocketed a few Microfusion Cells he found in one of the boxes near the tent, and was intrigued to look in the other box and find .308 rounds - rounds that could be used with a sniper rifle. There was nothing but a 10mm pistol and a few rounds on the raider's body. He ducked into the tent and found a larger chest that appeared to be locked. He got out a bobby pin and began fiddling with the lock. Finally, after a few clicks, the chest heaved open and revealed his prize: a sniper rifle in very good repair. He smiled to himself at his luck, and went back outside, sitting cross-legged on the ground. He hummed a little to himself as he began loading the rifle with the .308 rounds.

After he had listened to Sierra's sugar-induced ramblings the night before, he was able to piece together some clues about where he could begin his search. Apparently, there was a Nuka-Cola Plant far to the east, just outside of D.C. Proper. He figured that the terminals there would probably have information regarding where some of the quantum had been shipped to. He was confident that if Ronald didn't know about the plant, he would be blindly scouring every camp and ruin, and the Stranger would have the advantage of having purpose and direction to his search.

He had left Girdershade at around 5 o'clock that morning, just as the first rays of sunlight were beginning to creep over the horizon. He travelled the way always preferred to - fast and light - clad only in his suit and hat, with some bottled water and a pouch of ammunition for his laser pistol. He had headed east at a brisk pace, with few interruptions. He never saw the need to make camp for himself in the wasteland. The various ruins and raider camps were enough to sustain any traveller who had the intelligence - and the firepower - to take them for himself.

As he felt and turned the rifle in his hands, his thoughts wandered to Ronald Laren. He had taken him for a simple man; one ill-equipped to handle the harshness of the wasteland. But perhaps his confidence that the environment itself would take care of this rival was misplaced. At any rate, he wasn't worried.

He produced one of his favorite possessions - a silver harmonica - from his suit pocket and placed a lively tune before the fire. 


End file.
